come and lay your bones down with me
by Whiscash
Summary: Sans sleeps a lot, but now he's found something worth staying awake for. (just a little fluffy Soriel ficlet!)


**come and lay your bones down with me**

 **by Whiscash**

 **pairing:** Sans/Toriel

notes: written for the prompt "naps", but really just an excuse to write totally self-indulgent plotless otp fluff :D so if you're down for that, hopefully enjoy! and as always feel free to let me know your thoughts!

* * *

So, Sans sleeps. A lot.

At home, on the job, sitting down, standing up, in the snow, at Grillby's face first into a plate of cheese fries and going viral on Undernet in an hour...if he's been there, he's probably slept there. It's just what he does – for the longest time, he didn't really have a whole lot else to do (besides, like, his job). It was a pretty useful skill at times, too – there weren't many monsters around who could successfully tune out both Papyrus _and_ Undyne yelling at them.

He doesn't always _decide_ to sleep when he does – that's his excuse most of the time, anyway, but it just kind of happens. Sans has had time to get used to it by now, and so have most people he knows – they didn't freak out or get mad if he occasionally dropped off mid-conversation any more. It wasn't like it was personal or anything, even if he'd had that exact same conversation too many times to count, or he hadn't but it was just super boring - it was just Sans. Must be a Tuesday.

But all that was before Toriel, and before his life actually felt like something worth staying awake for. Everything's going great – except he's never felt this self-conscious about the possibility of an impromptu power nap before. Because...well. He's never really dated anyone long enough to _care_ that they might be a little pissed if he starts snoring in the middle of one of their incredibly interesting anecdotes, but Toriel is different. Toriel is _amazing_ and funny and smart and beautiful, and the fact that she actually wants to be with him sometimes still feels like it must be a dream (he'd pinch himself, but...yeah) – and he really doesn't want to screw this up by making her think she might be boring him or that he doesn't want to talk to her.

So, yeah, he's been trying this thing where he makes an effort _not_ to randomly fall asleep around her, which shouldn't even be hard because it's Toriel and pretty much all he ever wants to do is hang out with her and swap bad jokes and make her laugh and kiss her. She's seen him sleep before, of course – who hasn't? – and she's never been mad or anything, but the first couple of times she did look a little concerned, and started asking questions: has he always done this? (Pretty much.) Does he feel sick? Does anything hurt? (No.) Is he eating? (Always.) Is he eating _healthily_? (...Pass.)

He thinks he's having a pretty good run, right up until he opens his eyes.

"Huh...?" Sans blinks, taking a moment to register that he's no longer sitting in Toriel's kitchen but outside his own front door, cradled carefully in her arms. He glances up and meets her eyes with a sheepish grin. "Oh, hey. Guess I fell asleep, huh."

"You did indeed," she replies, smiling fondly down at him with a gently amused twinkle in her eye. "I realised something was amiss when you did not respond to my offer of a second slice of pie."

Damn, he really _had_ missed out. "Y'know, you _can_ just wake me up next time, right? Everyone else does." They tried, at least, but Toriel shakes her head.

"Oh, I could not bring myself to disturb you when you looked so cu – _peaceful_."

Sans smirks, wondering which is better – the fact that Toriel thinks he's _cute_ or the adorable way she's attempting to deny it – as she lowers him to the ground and presses a soft kiss to the top of his skull. "Do not worry about it. Get some rest, and I will see you tomorrow."

And then she's gone, and Sans' smile fades away with the sound of her footsteps. His evening entertainment options – now either sitting in on Papyrus and Undyne's cooking lesson, or Grillby's – are suddenly looking a whole lot less exciting and, even though Toriel didn't seem the slightest bit annoyed or upset with him, he can't shake the feeling he's just snoozed and...losed.

So it's definitely an improvement the next time he wakes up with a pair of soft, strong arms around him and the warmth of Toriel's body right through his bones as she sleeps beside him on the couch with her arms wrapped protectively around his ribs, as though someone might steal him from her. Now he's so aware of her pressed up against him, the steady rise and fall of her chest and how he feels every exhale, every little twitch and murmur – Sans realises he doesn't actually _want_ to sleep right now, which is definitely new. He could stay right here forever – or at least until he gets hungry enough to move – just looking at her. (Is that creepy, he wonders? Hey, he can't help it – it's in his bones, and he has to smirk quietly to himself so as not to wake Toriel up.)

It's not long before she stirs, though, big, crimson eyes fluttering open and widening in surprise.

"Oh, my," she murmurs, her voice still low and sleepy, but her face lights up with a wide, and slightly guilty, smile as though Sans is the best thing she's ever woken up to. "I _was_ going to wake you up, but then I closed my eyes, just for a minute, and – well..."

"Heh - believe me, I know how it goes," Sans says, grinning as he shifts position, rolling over in her arms so they're looking right at each other. "S'okay, Tori, don't fight it. Long day, huh?"

"It has been...challenging, at times," she admits with a yawn, but then, to Sans' dismay, she lets go, cruelly and unnecessarily depriving him of her warmth as she starts to shift upright. "I suppose I really have to get dinner started..."

"Nope, you don't." Sans can move fast when he wants to; he clings stubbornly onto her arm before she can get away, nuzzling into her neck and making her giggle and squirm half-heartedly. She could easily shake him off if she wanted to, but accepts her fate, relaxing back against him as he pats his own nonexistent stomach. "Not gonna waste away anytime soon here, I think we're good."

Toriel lets out a huff somewhere between exasperation and amusement, her warm breath tickling his spine, and pokes him playfully in the ribs in retaliation. "Perhaps _you_ will not, but _I_ am hungry too!"

She still doesn't make a move to get up, though, resting her chin gently on top of his head before continuing, thoughtfully: "It is funny; back in the Ruins, I never could sleep. I would lie awake every night, always thinking that I heard someone – something. But every time I went to check, there was nothing there. And when I did fall asleep, I always dreamt of..." Her voice is light, neutral, but Sans feels her tense up as she hesitates, just for a second, before shaking her head dismissively. "Well, they were never pleasant dreams."

"Yeah?" He's idly playing with her ear as she talks, stroking through the soft fur; she leans into the touch, and he feels her shiver as he traces the sensitive underside. "Do you still have those dreams?"

"Hmm, sometimes. But they do not bother me so much any more." Toriel smiles down at him, her eyes big and soft and tender, and it's almost too much for Sans to handle. "Because now, I know I do not have to face them alone."

"It does help," he says nonchalantly, but he's pretty sure the size of his grin gives away the rush of love swelling in his soul when he looks at her, even as he can't resist waggling his brow bone suggestively. "Sounds like maybe you just needed someone to make you _bone_ tired."

Toriel lets out a snort of laughter, and taps her claws lightly on the top of his skull. "Oh, is that so? I thought it might be because I have such a _skele-ton_ of work to do."

He chuckles, reaches up to grab her hand and pull it back around him, locking them together, and she doesn't resist. "Good one, Tori. Gotta love the classics."

"Mmm," she murmurs, already sounding sleepy again as she snuggles back into the couch and Sans, soft fur brushing his cheekbone. "I suppose, perhaps, dinner could wait...just a little while longer."

"You," he lets out a yawn mid-sentence – it's super contagious, not that he's complaining – and leans into her just before he closes his eyes, "saw right through me, Tori."

Sans didn't even think it was possible, but he's never slept better.


End file.
